


The Heady Weight of Promises

by Zoi no miko (zoi_no_miko)



Category: Primeval
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Sibling Incest, quinncest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-26
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 00:09:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/655893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoi_no_miko/pseuds/Zoi%20no%20miko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny finds out more about why Ethan turned out the way he did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heady Weight of Promises

He should have expected more from Patrick. Shouldn't have underestimated him, not after everything the ARC had told him. But then he'd expected that Patrick would run and his job would be to give chase, and his mind fell into old patterns of pursuing a suspect. Stupid copper.

Danny had come across the dead terror bird near dusk, laying dead at the foot of a rocky incline. He'd become familiar with the area - it was rugged enough that the birds weren't fond of traversing it, and it was strange to see one so far from the grasslands. Examination found the bird still warm, its neck freshly broken.

Well. First rule of survival was not to let anything go to waste.

He gutted the bird on the spot, then drug the carcas back to a nearby cave he was familiar with from occasionally spending the night there as he roamed the area. The advantage of being in this time, he'd discovered, were that the birds seemed to be the only really large predators, and once he'd figured out their patterns of behavior it had been easy enough to stay clear. It didn't take long to pluck and clean the bird with the combat knife that had become one of his most important survival tools. Sitting back in a hollow of the rock that he'd filled with dried grasses, watching the bird on a spit at the mouth of the cave, he couldn't help but think that it hadn't been that bad of a day at all.

Except....

"Hello, big brother."

Danny woke with a start, the blade of his own knife pressed to his throat. He swallowed hard, hyper-aware of the sharpness of the blade against his skin, and looked up to focus on the man kneeling over him, his other hand large and strong where it gripped Danny's shoulder. So much stronger, so different from the uncertain teenager Danny remembered. "Patrick."

"It's been a long time since anyone's called me that," the man replied, not moving, and for a moment Danny thought about trying to twist away and overpower him. "I could snap your neck right now," Patrick said simply, as if reading his mind. "So I don't suggest you try anything. You build quite an array of skills when you spend eighteen years trying to survive against a multitude of nightmarish creatures that could rip you to shreds."

"What do you want?" Danny managed to ask, forcing himself to hold Patrick's gaze, unwavering. Not to give up control.

"What do I want." Patrick's eyes narrowed slightly. "Perhaps I just want to be left alone. Perhaps I want to kill you and be done with it."

"If you wanted to kill me you would have already done so," Danny replied. "You've had ample opportunity. Sit down, Patrick. Get this bloody knife away from me, you've already proved that you're in charge, yeah?"

Patrick hesitated, then pulled back, dropping down on his heels closer to the fire. Well placed between Danny and any kind of escape. But what was the point of escaping? This is why he'd come after Patrick, wasn't it?

The bird was cooking nicely, and Patrick reached out to turn it on the spit to keep the underside from burning. "Did you like my present?" Patrick's expression was open, momentarily without the distrust Danny had seen before. It made him think back to when they were kids, when Patrick had been seven and he fifteen, feeling worlds apart from the boy and so close to him all at the same time. He still had the slightly lumpy clay pot holding pens on his desk at the ARC. Or rather, in the box of things that had been his desk before he'd disappeared from the world.

"I did. Thank you. Should we have a bite to eat when it's done and catch up?"

"Don't play with me, Danny." Patrick's eyes were hard again. "Why did you come after me?"

"I've always tried to come after you," Danny replied carefully, watching the man's grip on his knife and trying to determine if the folds of his jacket covered a pistol in the back of his pants. "I haven't lied about anything, Patrick. You were always my priority."

"I thought about killing you," Patrick replied, almost ignoring his words. "It was what I'd originally planned. But then when I spoke with you, I realized it would be far more painful to let you live. To let you suffer every day with the knowledge that this is all your fault. That all your good deeds can never make up for the fact that you turned your baby brother into a cold-hearted killer."

"That's your decision, Pat. Not mine."

"No? You didn't come after me. You left me all alone to fight those things by myself."

The knowledge was agonizing. "I couldn't help it. You think I can just open anomalies at will?"

"You still abandoned me." It was still strange, even now, to see Patrick with such anger in his eyes. Such hatred from the little brother who had once worshiped him. "None of this would have happened if you'd given me what I wanted back then. You know that. I would have been home with you, not out with those boys at all."

Danny closed his eyes with a soft groan. Part of him had hoped that Patrick had forgotten all about that. Even he'd succeeded, at times, pushing the incident out of his mind until it seemed like the remnants of a bad dream. "That shouldn't have happened."

"But it did." Patrick's voice lowered a little, almost a purr. "It did, and you wanted it just as much as I did."

Did he? It was hard not to remember it now, the images of that night ingrained in his mind with the kind of focused intensity that only comes from being very, very drunk. Coming home to a house that was empty apart from Patrick, their widowed mother working the night shift. Stripping down to his undershorts and passing out in bed in a drunken haze. Then he'd woken with Patrick over top of him, warm and naked and willing, his hand slipping down the front of his shorts to curl around a traitorously hard cock as Patrick's mouth pressed, trembling, to his. "You promised you'd do anything for me," Patrick had murmured, teenaged body pressed close, fingers tight on his cock. "You promised you'd give me anything I wanted. I want this. Be my first. I need this."

It had been so hard to think of logic in that moment, lost in the haze of the wine and the heady weight of promises made with unthinking passion to a six year old boy at his father's funeral. He'd always protected Patrick, but it was almost inevitable that Patrick would cling to him even more after that, to the brother eight years his senior who looked so much like their dead father, who always did his best to make Patrick's world safe. He hadn't intended to make Patrick so reliant on him. But in that moment the smallest, most selfish part of him wanted what Patrick was asking for, wanted his brother to learn of passion and desire from caring hands instead of some drunken, messy fumble in the backseat of a car. So he'd pressed his dark-haired brother back into the pillows of his own bed and let the physical take over, devouring a willing and eager mouth with kisses, tasting his skin. He'd gotten Patrick off with his mouth on his brother's dick and two slick fingers pressed up inside his virgin arse, ears filled with Patrick's gasps of pleasure, whimpering Danny's name as slim hips bucked under him, as he came down his throat. Then all he could do was hold tight as Patrick jerked him off, kissing and biting too hard at Danny's neck and shoulders until they'd been covered in little bruises. He'd had full knowledge of what he was doing and how wrong it was, and the mortification of it had kept him almost frozen until he'd jerked up into Patrick's fingers and come with a wordless cry, body overwhelmed by the hot intensity of shame and pleasure both.

"I just wanted you to be happy," he replied finally, staring into the flames. "Just wanted to take care of you."

"Then why did you push me away the next day?" Hurt was raw on Patrick's face, overcoming the anger. "I loved you - "

"You asked me to fuck you," Danny shot back, long buried emotion churning in his stomach. Desire. Shame. Revulsion. Love. "You're my baby brother and you asked me to fuck you. What we did was bad enough, let alone - "

"You made me a promise and you broke it," Patrick shot back. "You promised me, Danny. Anything."

"I didn't expect that you'd ever ask me for something like that."

"Then why did you let me kiss you? Why did you let me love you when you were just going to push me away? You told me you loved me. You lied to me!"

"I've never lied to you," Danny replied quietly, watching him. He hadn't wanted to accept this, but perhaps in the back of his mind he'd always known that there was something wrong with his brother. Some crossed wire, some inability to see the world in the same ethical and moral light that others did. He'd tried to ignore it, to rationalize what they'd done. What Patrick had asked for. It was easy to say things like dependency and daddy complex, anything that could rationalize what Patrick had asked for and what he'd done. But now he could see the truth all too clearly, and though it sickened him, somehow he was no longer surprised by everything the ARC had told him about Ethan. About Patrick. "I never lied to you, Patrick. I love you, I've always loved you and I always will. Even with all you've done and what you've become. But you're my baby brother. You're not a lover. Brothers can't be that."

For a long moment, Patrick was silent, staring into the flames. He turned the bird again. "Did you come here to capture me, or kill me? You were back in your own time. Why come after me?"

"I didn't want you to hurt anyone else," Danny replied hoarsely, staring helplessly at the fire. "I didn't think about what I'd do when I found you. I just... I didn't want you to have to be alone anymore."

"I want to be alone," Patrick said calmly, "So you can't help with that one, Danny. I can disappear without a trace and you can't do anything to stop me."

"I had to try. And I won't stop trying. No matter how many times you disappear, Patrick. I will find you. I promise you that."

"I see." In an eyeblink Patrick was on edge again, the knife set aside well out of reach, his fingers curled instead around the grip of the pistol he'd pulled from the back of his pants. "Right, then. Lets make a deal, big brother. A promise. You give me what I want right now and you have my word that I will never kill a human again unless they're trying to kill me. You know I keep my promises. Do you accept?"

"Give you what you want," Danny repeated with growing dread. "And what would that be, now?"

"You," Patrick replied without hesitation. "I can't kill you, I know that now. I love you too much. So I want what I asked for the morning I disappeared. I want you to be my first. But this time I want you naked, on your hands and knees, begging for it."

For a long moment Danny couldn't reply, couldn't do anything but close his eyes to the horror of the request. "You don't want that."

"Oh, I very much do. Give it to me, Danny. Give it to me and I'll disappear forever. I'll find some little corner of time away from everyone else and never kill anyone again."

Danny clenched his hands into fists, then slowly forced himself to uncurl them, watching Patrick the whole time. This was his mistake to fix. His cross to bear. And Patrick would keep his word about this, he was sure about it. So he could do this, put this all behind him and try to find his way home again. He swallowed hard, voice rough. "Tell me what to do."

For a moment Patrick just stared at him, almost as if uncomprehending that Danny had agreed to his demand. Then he gave a soft laugh, lips turning up into a smile that was smug and triumphant all at once. "Clothes off. Hands and knees."

Danny stripped off his plaid shirt and the white t-shirt underneath, battered and worn from his journeys, trying to keep his hands from trembling. He tried not to think about what this would be like, how long it had been since anyone had touched him. What he'd agreed to.

"And your trousers," Patrick said, drawing his attention back. "Hand me your belt."

It was hard not to look at Patrick as much as he tried to focus his attention on anything else as he sat naked and shivering in the cave, and not completely from the chill in the night air. Patrick's dark intensity was difficult to ignore. And he'd grown up into a beautiful man with their mother's delicate genes instead of Danny's own craggy looks. He handed across the worn leather, not saying anything even as Patrick set aside the gun to pull his wrists together, binding them tight with the leather. Then he nudged Danny's shoulder with the barrel of the gun. "Come on, big brother. Hands and knees."

His voice was almost kind, and Danny swallowed hard, trying to push away the shiver of fear that ran down his spine. "Pat, put the gun away, yeah? I've already agreed to your deal. I'm not going to run."

"I know you're not." The cold point of the gun traced a lazy line down his spine and over the small of his back. "You're not going to run because you secretly want this as much as I do. You pretend that I'm the degenerate one. You pretend that you're so pure, some bloody white knight. You're just as twisted as I am, aren't you?"

"I am," Danny whispered back, biting his bottom lip as Patrick traced the gun down the crease of his ass, teasing it against his hole. He couldn't argue, not when it wouldn't do any good. Not when he couldn't feel anything but twisted in this moment, kneeling frozen with terror and the strange shudder of desire that ran through him at the brush of the cold metal against his ass.

"Good to hear you admit it," Patrick replied, pressing the gun a little harder against him. "Maybe I should fuck you with this first, hm? Should I, big brother? You still have such a nice ass. Would look so good with this pistol inside you."

Danny grit his teeth against the shudder of pain brought by rough metal scraping against him. "I want you, Patrick."

A pause, though the gun didn't pull away. "What was that, Danny?"

Danny drew a breath, forcing out the words. "Want you, baby brother. Want your cock in my ass. Want you to fuck me."

"Hmm." Patrick was silent for a moment, then moved towards the fire, reaching out to push his fingers into the cooking bird, breaking the skin, grease coating his fingers and dripping down to sizzle in the fire. His fingers were still hot when they pushed into Danny roughly, three at once, stretching him open. "Do you really, brother? Is that why you've been chasing me all this time? It is, isn't it. I'm not the only one that wanted to finish what we started. Am I?"

"No," Danny replied, agreeing despite the shudder of revulsion, saying anything Patrick wanted to hear. "Shouldn't have ever refused you, Pat. Make up for it now, please. Fuck me hard." He choked back a groan as Patrick's fingers twisted inside him, forcing a shudder of pleasure to mix with the pain, making his dick twitch. "Oh fuck."

"I believe you," Patrick replied with a low chuckle, the pistol long set aside. He reached out to slick his other hand with bird grease, stroking it over his own cock. Then, before Danny could even steel himself, Patrick's fingers had been replaced by his cock, shoving inside him in hard thrusts, stretching him open. He couldn't stop himself from crying out, bound hands scrabbling at the dirt and rock and dried grass under him as Patrick's fingers dug into his hips painfully, shoving into him again and again.

"Just as tight as I imagined," Patrick breathed, bucking harder into him, brushing against his prostate and pulling a helpless cry of pleasure from Danny's lips this time. "Used to imagine this when I'd jerk off," he growled, breathless, as he set a hard, unforgiving pace. "Remembering what you looked like with that mouth of yours wrapped around my cock. Thought about this so - many - fucking - times. Making you my whore like this." He slowed suddenly, leaning over Danny to nuzzle the back of his neck with deceptive softness, drawing his tongue over his skin. "A boy never forgets his first," he murmured, drawing back before sliding into him again just so, giving a little appreciative hum at Danny's choked cry of pleasure. "Never forgot what it felt like to make you come, big brother. Want to hear that again."

Danny bit back his protests, closing his eyes and trying not to think. It was more difficult without the hum of alcohol, but the shame of this proved just as much an aphrodisiac as it did then, and with Patrick's cock brushing against his sweet spot again and again it didn't take long before he was fully hard and aching. "Patrick," he gasped, and was rewarded with a harder thrust, with Patrick's fingers slipping to curl around his cock, jerking him firm and sure.

"Say that again," Patrick breathed, fingers tightening around his cock, slick with his arousal. "Say it again. Beg for it."

Danny's face burned as he forced out the words, but his cock didn't seem to care. "Fuck me, Patrick. My baby brother. Please fuck me, fuck me hard and make me come."

"Danny..." His name on Patrick's lips was surprisingly desperate, punctuated by another hard thrust. By Patrick curling over his back with a soft sob, face pressed to the crook of his neck, hands clenching Danny's bound ones. It was a touch, just a touch of the boy he remembered, and with a few more thrusts sensation overwhelmed him, thundering through him, love and shame and desire and need all combined in an orgasm that overwhelmed him almost completely. But through it he was acutely aware of Patrick's sobbed gasps, whimpering Danny's name against his skin as he bucked into him hard, thrusting erratically through his own climax as he came deep inside him.

For a long moment neither said anything, breathing hard, shuddering together. Patrick didn't move to pull away, face still pressed to his hair, and when Danny turned his face into the soft kiss that was placed to his cheekbone he could feel a dampness on his brother's cheeks. He didn't move as Patrick loosened the belt around his wrists enough that he would be able to wiggle free without difficulty, didn't speak as Patrick placed tender kisses over the back of his neck before finally easing away from him, leaving him empty and aching. He didn't look up until Patrick moved past the fire to stand at the mouth of the cave, and found his brother watching him, expression unreadable.

"I do love you," Danny said, because despite the shame and horror of this and how much he actually hated Patrick for forcing him into this, it was still true.

"I know," Patrick replied, and for a moment something that almost looked like longing crossed his face. Then he schooled it away, stepping back and out of the firelight. "Goodbye, Danny."

~~~~

**Author's Note:**

> While I can't lay claim to coining the oh-so-perfect term of Quinncest, I can proudly say that this was the first Quinncest to show up on the internets. Now I'm sharing it here, so you can all witness the hot perversity. XD


End file.
